


clemency

by side_stickie_note (lost_stickie_note)



Series: tinysparks [17]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Chanyeol's Birthday Week 2020, Hand & Finger Kink, King!Kyungsoo, M/M, Maybe sexual, Tension, brief mention of potential mutilation, not so much kink as in appreciation for Chanyeol's hands, thief!Chanyeol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 11:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27969587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_stickie_note/pseuds/side_stickie_note
Summary: Chanyeol is on his knees in front of the king, and it's exactly where he wants to be.
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Park Chanyeol
Series: tinysparks [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734781
Comments: 14
Kudos: 60
Collections: Challenge #11 — The Suspect... is You!





	clemency

**Author's Note:**

> This was the result of many many switches in idea since apparently my brain just wanted to be wildly indecisive the past week or so. ;;
> 
> This fic basically draws a bit of inspo from Megan Whalen Turner's fantasy series that begins with 'The Thief'. It is a wonderfully captivating series.

“What’s your name?”

Chanyeol feels the eyes of everyone on him, the heat of the unknown burning into his back, head still bowed, not daring to look upwards to meet the gaze of the one person who truly matters. He clears his throat nervously before responding, wringing his hands buried in his lap, thankful at least that he had been given some leniency, his wrists no longer bound.

“Chanyeol.”

“ _Chanyeol_.”

His name tastes savory in its heaviness hanging in the air.

And Chanyeol finally raises his head, catching his first glimpse of the king.

He’s up on a dias, throne and all, just a few steps away from where Chanyeol is on his knees, digging uncomfortably into the smooth, pretty marble of the throne room floor.

The king is wrapped up in gaudy ceremonial garb, the multiple layers of fabric adorning his body, the sleeves billowing out, only his hands visible, legs filling the expanse of the throne, falling open slightly in a surface level lounging manner that belies his measure of control beneath the surface.

“Would you care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Chanyeol really wouldn’t.

He thinks about whether he should lie but decides against it. The king doesn’t need Chanyeol to spin him a tale, though he certainly doesn’t need to know the whole truth either. So he settles for the half-truth.

“I’m a thief.”

“You’re a thief.”

Chanyeol wonders whether it’s mirth dancing behind the king’s eyes, lips curling upwards in an almost disbelieving smile, not as sharp as Chanyeol would have guessed, gaining a bit of confidence when there is no immediate rebuke.

“Yes, a thief.”

A pause.

“A rather talented one at that.”

There’s a hesitant murmuring that runs through the onlooking crowd, no doubt in surprise at his audacity in the face of the king, but Chanyeol doesn’t see the harm in admitting to it now.

It seems to be the right choice.

The king leans forward, seemingly interested for the first time since they had started speaking, the merriment evident in his voice if Chanyeol looks carefully for it. “So, pray tell me, what exactly have you stolen?”

“A few things here and there.”

He brushes it off, enjoying the feeling of grandstanding, the swell of curiosity from behind him prickling at the back of his neck.

“A couple of paintings, some jewels, nothing of _great_ import.”

“ _Oh_?”

Chanyeol feels his heart beating faster as the king stretches out the word longer than necessary, thick perfect eyebrows drawn together slightly, an almost indiscernible furrow at his forehead, and he can’t quite tell whether it’s out of fear or attraction that his breath catches, staring at the king’s lips, parted.

Pretty.

“And _where_ have you been stealing these things from?” The king raises an eyebrow. “I hardly think that many places have things of such value laying around, especially not left unwatched to risk a thief of your esteem to come around.”

Ah, so he does know.

“Your majesty—” Chanyeol’s throat goes dry, his tongue suddenly too big for his mouth, fumbling to form words around his teeth, choosing flattery to soothe whatever ire he may have incurred. “—I think you would know better than I.”

“I prefer, my liege.”

Chanyeol feels his face burn.

“Counselor, would you kindly read out the items that we have thus far catalogued as missing from the palace?”

It’s not a short list.

And it provides ample time for Chanyeol to study the king’s face, so different under the harsh glare of the sunlight streaming in from the windows, giving the king a sharp cut to his jaw, the sun at its zenith for the day.

Different from the face of the teenage prince under the soft glow of moonlight out in the orchard at midnight singing to himself when he thought no one was watching, unaware of a young thief who had just barely managed to get back over the palace wall sight unseen.

The list winds down. “—and five gold bars from the palace coffers.”

Another raised eyebrow, voice laced with sarcasm, tinged with bitterness. “The palace coffers? You’ll have to teach me the trick for that one as sometimes I’m not even sure whether I’m allowed in there, even as king.”

“Come here, Chanyeol.”

It’s a slow walk.

“Kneel.” A brief pause. “Your hand, please.”

Chanyeol hardly dares to breathe as the king takes his right hand into his own lap, trying not to shiver as the king runs a thumb over his open palm, tracing the line outward from his wrist. They’re soft, smaller than his, and Chanyeol resists the urge to close his hand so he can know what it feels like to intertwine their fingers. His face feels as if it’s on fire now, the king taking his time, the ghost of short, clipped, neat nails along his roughened skin, the hands of someone who’s accustomed only to taking.

“The hands of a thief—” The king murmurs, and Chanyeol has enough grace to not waver as he gazes back, meeting the king's stare. “—you know, in the olden days, I could have your entire hand for thieving.” Chanyeol trembles as the king draws a line across his wrist with the edge of his nail. “Or even just a few fingers.” He gasps when he feels the squeeze, pinching at his knuckle.

“We haven’t moved past those days yet.”

And for the first time, Chanyeol feels something akin to real fear.

But the king straightens up, letting his hand fall.

“The thief shall be pardoned.” A curt nod. “He shall remain in the palace for now.”

The guard grabs his arm, and Chanyeol gets one last glimpse of the king’s face before he’s whisked away, thankful that they had missed one item in the list of things he’s stolen from the palace, the ring strung on a simple chain around his neck, swiped under the cover of darkness.

Kyungsoo had looked so peaceful then, asleep—

—it had made Chanyeol’s heart ache.

**Author's Note:**

> re: Chanyeol's been in love with Kyungsoo ever since that night in the orchard when they were kids. And has been purposefully stealing from the palace in hopes of getting closer to him.
> 
> Honestly, congrats if you made it to the end! This was a weird piece. ♡
> 
> Comments, kudos, and feedback appreciated! ♡
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/sidestickienote) | [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/sidestickienote)


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